


Dan and Phil versus the World

by Susannah (realismandromance)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Analysis, Angst, Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, Existential Crisis, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, Phandom Big Bang 2016, Reality, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realismandromance/pseuds/Susannah
Summary: In an alternate universe (where Poe the cactus survived), Dan and Phil revisited Japan after TATINOF. Now they’re back in London, but something's changed, leaving Dan tense and restless. Maybe they’ve been so busy selling Dan and Phil™ all these years that they’ve forgotten how to be themselves. Storytelling has a way of seeping into real life, but it only confounds things when you start to believe it.

  This fic was nominated for the Characterisation Award in the Phanfic Awards 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my beta, Sam ([phantropolis](http://phantropolis.tumblr.com)), without whom this story would probably still be half finished and abandoned.
> 
> Further author's notes and any content warnings can be found at the end (so as to avoid spoilers).
> 
> [Read/like/reply/reblog on Tumblr here!](http://realismandromance.tumblr.com/post/153508131391/dan-and-phil-versus-the-world)

_'So, more than just videos and things floating around the Internet, we wanted to make something.’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Something physical, something real that you can have and hold and to remind you of all of these good times, and to prove that once there were these two guys called Dan and Phil who met each other on the Internet and created this entire world.’_

_‘Okay, Dan, stop, ‘cause everyone’s going to cry, including me.’_

_‘Yeah, but that’s why we did this!’_

* * *

  _the present_

The day they arrive back at their flat is cold, drab and drizzly, and Dan has never been so glad to see those flights of stairs in his life.

‘It’s the perfect weather,’ Phil points out, in the taxi home from the airport. ‘Very homey. Very Londonish.’

‘Very fog. Much rain. Such London.’

Phil laughs, but it’s a weak, tired laugh, carrying all the stress of months spent on tour buses and in hotel rooms, travelling across America and beyond. Dan simply sinks back in his seat and closes his eyes. _He_ can sleep in a taxi. Phil will have to entertain himself.

It seems like only a second passes in blissful slumber before he feels Phil nudging him.

‘Dan, wake up. We're home.’

Dan clambers – no, almost _rolls_ – out of the taxi, too stuporous to notice Phil paying the driver, or to realise that he is automatically grabbing luggage out of the boot (not caring whose is whose – what's yours is mine, and all that) until the taxi drives away, spattering their jackets with rainwater from the street.

‘Come on, Dan.’ Phil is already on the doorstep of their building – _how the hell does he manage to have so much energy?_ ‘Have you got the keys?’

A distant memory stirs in Dan's mind, but he doesn’t have the energy to pursue it. ‘I thought you put them in your bag.’

‘I put them in … oh.’

‘What?’ Dan snaps, resisting the urge to raise his voice. His lack of energy and dwindling patience is putting him in a bad temper. ‘What did you even do with them, Phil?’

‘I was going to bring them overseas … you know … but then we were worried we’d lose them somewhere again, knowing us, so I gave the second pair to Bryony as well.’

‘Fuck!’

‘I think it was your suggestion, actually,’ says Phil. He suddenly looks bone-tired, and pulls his phone out of his pocket with great effort. ‘I'll ring her, just … just calm down.’

The rain still has not let up, but it isn't heavy rain anyway – just the kind that is impossible to ignore. While Phil dials, Dan yanks their bags up onto the porch, trying to ignore the throbbing in his temple.

‘She's already on the way,’ says Phil after a minute, tucking his phone away. ‘I emailed her our flight plans ages ago, but she got stuck with the bad weather – there's been an accident on the roads …’

‘Can't wait to see if she managed to kill your hordes of houseplants,’ Dan says tonelessly. The words ‘we’re such fucking idiots’ echo in his head, and he does nothing to drive them away.

‘Dan. They're not _hordes_.’

‘Well, if they weren't hordes when we left, they are now.’ The reappearance of his curly hair, combined with his headache, is making Dan sulky.

Phil lets out a tiny sigh. ‘She'll be round in a few minutes.’

‘You don't need to _baby_ me, Phil.’

But when Bryony finally does arrive, Dan's spirits lift. She unlocks the door for them, presses the keys into Phil's hand – but, perhaps sensing how fatigued they are, she doesn’t hug them until they've brought all their things inside and shut the door.

Phil goes to the toilet and Dan wearily lugs bags upstairs with Bryony's help. Then he goes down for the rest. He's seen the signs; he knows Phil is feeling the effects of the long plane trip and subsequent taxi ride. Phil will take some pills and go to bed, and Dan will probably do the same.

When Phil appears, Dan has the headache tablets out and is scoffing two down (Bryony has brought biscuits). Dan wordlessly passes Phil his own, and Phil takes them without comment, yawning as he does so. Dan can sympathise. It is in fact a perfectly reasonable time of the day, but he has never felt so tired.

'Bloody hell, I'm going to be jetlagged for a month.' He sniffles and groans. 'And I think I caught the flu off that girl in the airport.'

'Dan?' Phil is holding something out for Dan to see. Dan looks up and tries to focus his eyes.

'Yeah?'

'I think Poe's turned into a tree.'

* * *

After years of VidCon and infrequent holidays, Dan has settled into a post-travel routine. He always seems to either already be ill or get ill soon afterwards, as if his body has become exhausted with holding off germs and crashes after the excitement. One lazy pyjama week later, maybe two, and he’s ready to face the world again. But ‘the world’ doesn’t include Phil, of course, because Phil is a part of Dan, and Dan is a part of Phil.

All things considered, their recovery was most difficult after touring North America. Then, they were exhilarated, but jetlag combined with the new strangeness of their apartment made them cross. So they had the aforementioned ‘pyjama week’, filmed some videos, hung out with friends and even went outside (Pokémon GO helped with that).

And then … well …

It's odd to remember. After the USA tour in summer 2016, Dan crashed, and he crashed _hard_. He thought it was just a stubborn cold, but a visit to the doctor revealed the truth.

‘I thought it was only a thing old people and babies got,’ Dan griped to Phil immediately upon arriving home. ‘Just my luck that the only time I actually _want_ to go outside, I’ve caught fucking pneumonia!’

Phil surveyed Dan’s face, which was still coated in a fine layer of sweat, even though it had been minutes since Dan had climbed the stairs. ‘Maybe you should get some rest,’ he said, in a tone that welcomed no arguments. ‘D’you want a tea?’

Dan nodded, but the movement triggered a bout of coughing and he doubled over until it stopped. When he looked up, Phil had jumped out of the way.

‘What?’ said Phil, seeing Dan’s expression. ‘I’m not taking any chances.’

‘Good news: the doctor said it’s not contagious, so I can breathe on you as much as I want. Bad news: I’ve still got fucking pneumonia.’

‘Is that what we’re calling it now?’

‘Shut up, you dildo. And he asked me if I’d started coughing blood yet.’

‘Yet?!’ Phil’s eyes widened. ‘Wait, you haven’t, have you?’

Dan shook his head, instantly regretting it as dizziness flooded his senses and he swayed on the spot. Phil steadied him.

‘I’ll get your tea. Go to bed.’

Dan did. Phil’s bed was soft and cosy, and it smelled like Phil. Like home.

* * *

_the past_

It was Phil’s idea to go to Japan again. The notion of even more travelling after already touring several continents for TATINOF (including their monster of an American tour) was strange to Dan at first, but the more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. After all, it would be a _real_ holiday, and they certainly deserved it after how busy they’d been. As much fun as they had had touring, it was still part of their job, and meeting hundreds of people, travelling between stops, battling motion sickness (in Phil’s case) and putting on a physically exhausting stage show had taken its toll.

So they went to Japan, this time for a week. ‘We’re not doing a second day in the life’ was something they agreed on almost immediately. While they’d stressed that their 2015 trip was just for them, there was no denying the videos, tweets, photos and portion of TABINOF that had resulted. This second trip was shorter, and it was a strictly private affair, but this didn’t stop their audience from going wild over the thought of Dan and Phil on a romantic getaway to Japan.

‘You know,’ said Dan, on their last night before the flight home, ‘I kind of miss touring.’ The two of them lay in Dan’s bed, limbs tangled and heads almost touching. ‘I mean, I don’t miss endless hours on the bus, but …’

‘But they’re not the important parts,’ said Phil. Under the covers, his hand found Dan’s and squeezed it. ‘We could have a reunion show in ten years, though,’ he suggested.

Dan started to laugh.

‘A reunion show? Because it’ll be so much fun and so little hassle for the crew! Phil, there are literally only two of us  _in_ the show!’ The unspoken implication rested comfortably in the air: _we won’t need to reunite because we’ll always be together, even ten years from now_.

* * *

_the present_

They’ve done it so many times, but getting over jetlag (and, in Dan’s case, illness) never seems to get easier.

'According to Cornelia,' says Phil, turning over in bed and not bothering to disguise his yawn, 'the way to do it is to force yourself to stay up during the day and crash after dinner.'

'Go to sleep, Phil,' says Dan, smiling into the induced darkness in spite of himself. For once, he isn't the one keeping the other awake.

He falls into an uneasy, muddle-headed sleep and wakes at eight pm to find Phil standing in the kitchen, munching on dry cereal. It gives Dan a comfortable sense of _déjà vu_. Old habits die hard.

He finds some food and pads reluctantly to his own room. There’s nothing he wants more than to cuddle up to Phil, but he knows Phil will just pass him the tissue box, trying (and partially failing) to ignore Dan’s constant whinging. Six years of comfortable cohabitation means that Phil has grown more conscious of Dan’s powers of persuasion, and therefore won’t give in as readily as he used to. Dan will have to launch a relentless campaign for snacks and binge-watching episodes of their current TV show of choice in Phil’s bed if he wants any sympathy this time around.

Then again, there’s something about Phil’s personality, so kind and sincere, that occasionally makes Dan feel guilty about this arrangement. He doesn’t need to pester Phil, who – being a chronic aeroplane insomniac – is probably just as tired, if not more. Maybe there’s another solution. Back in bed, Dan opens his laptop browser and lets autofill take him to Phil’s YouTube channel.

It’s easy to fall into a wormhole and pretend it’s 2009 again, pretend that he’s an 18-year-old fanboy and marathon old AmazingPhil videos. He never likes seeing his own face on camera, but there’s something about the nostalgia of their old ‘collabs’ that overpowers that distaste.

There it is. Their very first video together. Maybe the illness in his system is lowering his defences in more ways than one, but there’s a sudden lump in his throat, and the words on the screen blur before his eyes. He clicks.

_‘Why do you always make cat whiskers on your face?’_

* * *

_the past_

Dan didn’t remember the first video of Phil’s that he watched. What he _did_ remember was what kept him returning. Sure, he’d been a YouTube fan since the very beginning, spending all his time watching videos and all his money on merch. But AmazingPhil’s videos rapidly become his favourites. Phil was funny, weird, adorable, witty, endearing, spontaneous and (no pun intended) all-around amazing.

So he left comments on Phil’s videos and tweeted him endlessly, trying and failing not to sound like a desperate fanboy. Phil got many replies; surely there was no chance he would notice Dan …

But he did, and it happened again and again. And maybe Dan was just a teenager with ideals and impossible dreams, but when the tweets turned into Skype calls and _i want to be there so you don’t have to be brave_ and _stop being so damn pretty dan howell_ and _i think i love you_ , he thought, _this could be it_.

He knew how it felt to have friends, but none that would consider him their best friend. He knew what it was like to be around people who always liked other people more than him, what it was like to be eaten up by jealousy until you began neglecting those who actually cared for you. But this didn’t feel like that at all.

The phrase turned over and over in his head, and a rush of euphoria overwhelmed him for an instant.

_This could be it._

* * *

_the present_

Dan’s mum calls.

If truth be told, Dan keeps irregular contact with his family. It’s not out of malice, or even particularly intentional, but he sometimes uncomfortably wonders how much of this is clear to his audience, and recalls a moment from a side channel video, when he prank-called his mum:

_‘Hi, Mum.’_

_‘Oh, blimey!’_

Maybe that greeting had sent the wrong message. He isn’t _distant_ with his family, for crying out loud. They talk. His mum doesn’t watch his videos regularly, but she saw them present the Brits on YouTube three years in a row. His parents keep up with his Internet exploits almost as best as parents can. His brother has finished school. His Christian grandma sent him two tickets to see _Matilda_ in the West End for his birthday, and though she never told Dan who to take, the twinkle in her eyes when she FaceTimed him at six am was proof enough. Dan’s sure they already know, but he tries to force himself not to care.

His mother has been to TATINOF, along with the rest of his family, and she understands the Internet well enough, even if YouTube still confuses her a little. So when she calls, it’s not uncomfortable, just a little odd.

‘How are you doing, love?’

‘Good,’ he mumbles into the phone. ‘We’re – I’m good.’

She tells him about her work and Adrian’s uni life (‘what I can get out of him, anyway; you know what teenage boys are like!’) and about Dan’s dad. She’s always been full of funny anecdotes, but Dan has never made the connection between her entertaining storytelling style and his own ‘Danecdotes’ before. Maybe, he muses, they have more in common than he had previously realised.

‘What’s been happening in your life lately, Bear?’

The childhood nickname catches him off guard, and he stumbles over an answer. _You would know if you watched my videos,_ he thinks. Aloud, he reminds her about the tour, the YouTube Red Originals and Japan. _Dan and Phil Go Outside_ she is familiar with, as he and Phil sent both sets of parents a copy when the book first came out.

‘... and if you watch the documentary, then you can see the making of, like, the tour and stuff.’ Fuck. He was doing so well, too. ‘Or, I can find a way to just send you the video if YouTube Red is too confusing.’ Shit, now he just sounds like he’s being patronising.

To his relief, his mum just laughs. ‘I’m sure I’ll figure it out,’ she says. ‘I’m not eighty. I know how to use the Internet.’

_And yet you’ve never understood how YouTube can be a career,_ Dan thinks – but again, he doesn’t say this out loud.

‘Are you and Phil still doing your radio show, then?’

‘We stopped it when we went on tour,’ he says evasively.

‘But you’ll take it up again?’

‘Hopefully. We’re still working something out.’

During their conversation, there is an undercurrent of something that he can’t quite pinpoint. It’s only after she hangs up that he realises what’s been giving him an ache in his stomach, and it’s not homesickness. She’s politely enquiring, and he doesn’t doubt that she truly cares about him, but still Dan can’t help wishing for more, casting his mind back to when he texted her in February:

> _i presented a documentary for the bbc called the supergamers and it’s on tv tonight if you guys want to watch it_

When his mum did reply, it wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for.

> _For the BBC? Will it be on iPlayer then?_

_yes_ , he typed back, because it was the truth.

> _Your father and I will be busy but it sounds interesting. I’ll try to check it out._

Later that week, he got some texts from his younger brother.

> _I watched your doc on tuesday  
>  _ _good stuff_

Dan texted back, somewhat awkwardly.

> _thanks adrian_

He hesitated, then added, keeping his words casual:

> _do u know if mum and dad saw it btw?_

Adrian’s answer, when it came, turned Dan hot all over.

> _Idk but I think mum looked at the summary and said it’s not her thing_

There were a thousand things Dan wanted to say in reply, but he ended the conversation and pushed his head back into the sofa crease, breathing deeply. Of course they hadn’t watched it yet. Why would they ever watch a documentary about esports, even if it had been presented by their own son? Come to think of it, there was a scene where he showed his underwear to the camera. Maybe their blasé attitude was for the best.

Later, he discovered through Adrian that his parents did end up watching _The Supergamers_ , but on iPlayer and at Adrian’s reminder. The hot flush that had permeated his skin lessened slightly, and he banished uncharitable thoughts as best he could. It helped when he received another text, soon after Adrian’s:

> _Well done love the doc was great! Even if the subject was confusing it was nice to see you do another professional thing for the BBC. Glad that you got to travel and we thought your presenting was very good -love Mum and Dad_

The hot flush turned into a warm glow, with only a sliver of doubt and insecurity remaining. They loved him. They really did.

But slivers of doubt and insecurity, if not thoroughly dispelled, have a tendency to grow, and Dan couldn't stop ‘it was nice to see you do another professional thing’ from flashing in his mind’s eye. _Everything’s professional if you make it your job,_ he thought, and the implication rankled.

* * *

_the present_

The next day finds them slumped in Phil’s bed, having tried fruitlessly to summon the energy necessary to get up. Phil is playing on his DS, but Dan is deep in thought. Finally, with a groan, Phil puts the game on his bedside stand, sighing deeply, and Dan chooses this moment to voice his musings.

'What do you think happens after you die?'

'That's a pretty deep question for this early, Dan.'

'Phil, it's fucking two in the afternoon.'

'Oh, yeah.'

‘... Well?’

‘We get resurrected as robots in a hundred years.’

The lighthearted answer does not appease Dan. ‘I mean, is there an afterlife? Is there a point to all this? We’re just tiny beings on a rock that’s hurtling through space, one in a billion galaxies out there and –’

‘Dan. You’re getting existential again. We can’t control it, so why spend time worrying about it?’

‘But that’s the _point_ ,’ says Dan. A sneeze interrupts what he’s going to say next. Instinctively, he leans into Phil, who bats him away.

‘You’re sick,’ Phil chides, but fondness lends a soft edge to the words.

‘You love me.’

‘Doesn’t mean you have to make me sick.’

Dan shrugs. ‘If one gets sick, the other does. You might as well embrace the fact.’

‘You mean, embrace you.’

‘Just do it, Phil.’

‘But you always use that excuse.’

Dan thrusts his lip out in a pout. Phil rolls his eyes, but kisses him.

‘So,’ says Phil, when Dan has settled himself so he’s nearly in Phil’s lap, ‘What brought this about?’

‘My parents haven’t watched the show yet.’ It may not be a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. Dan can feel Phil’s fingers prodding at his back; Phil is uncoordinated and rough, but the attempted massage still relaxes him.

‘There’s time.’

‘Not forever.’

‘Who needs forever?’ Phil’s hand has crept up to Dan’s neck. Dan shifts.

‘You,’ he says. ‘You never want this to end.’

Phil’s touch doesn't pause.

‘But, I don't know,’ continues Dan. ‘Sometimes I think it would be less complicated if I’d just become a lawyer.’

This time, Phil does hesitate, and he rests a hand on Dan’s shoulder. ‘You hated law,’ he counters. ‘You don't miss it.’

‘No, but …’

‘But, nothing. You love YouTube, and you're happy. That's what matters, isn't it? Would you honestly rather be a sad lawyer?’

Dan grins in spite of himself. Something about the phrase ‘sad lawyer’ strikes him as irresistibly funny. But then his mother’s words come back to him.

‘Another professional thing for the BBC,’ he says under his breath.

‘What was that?’ asks Phil, too loudly.

‘Nothing. Well,’ he corrects, grasping for another topic, and latching on one that has bothered him before. ‘My mum, she … she didn’t ask after you. Yeah, she mentioned you after I did, but it was so weird that it made me stop for a second. I dunno if it’s better or worse than the stereotypical mum who asks her kids about when she’s going to get grandchildren.’

‘Your parents are pretty open-minded, though,’ says Phil. He means, _they know about us_ , and Dan doesn't correct him, doesn't remind Phil that he, Dan, has only had a handful of deep conversations with his parents since moving in with his best friend, and maybe the words _bisexual_ and _boyfriend_ have never come up, but that’s because Dan’s pretty sure that those words aren't necessary anymore.

’My parents never talked to me about that kind of stuff,’ he says. ‘Yeah, they’re open-minded, but at the same time, they didn’t really give a shit. They knew I dated a girl for three years, but she could have been an alien for all they knew.’

Phil nods, but Dan can tell he doesn’t get it.

‘They were kind of young when they had me – okay, not like _teenagers_ or something, but I … I wasn’t exactly _planned_ , you know? So they were still getting their lives in order, and then they had a kid to deal with as well. And I _know_ you can’t call it abuse, or even neglect, because they probably did the best they could, and I’m glad for that. They took me to movie sets and drama classes and rehearsals and filled my bedroom with fake snow for Christmas one year. But then my mum called earlier and I could hardly talk to her without feeling like I don’t know her at all, and I fucking hate it.’

‘Parents aren’t perfect,’ says Phil soothingly. ‘But that doesn’t mean they love you any less.’

‘I think I do know that. Y’know, cognitively. But it still makes me feel needy. I don’t want to be needy. I can’t stand feeling needy. Like, it could have been so much worse, because on the one hand I’m a privileged first-world arse, but on the other hand they could have fucking planned to have kids and been prepared. I feel like … I feel like people shouldn’t have kids unless they’re absolutely ready to be the best parents they can be.’

‘Sometimes it can’t be helped, though,’ interjects Phil. ‘I mean, you can’t choose what your child will be like. But with every new experience, you learn.’

Dan twists round to stare at Phil. ‘Are you saying it’s _my_ fault that my family is … whatever it is?’

Of course not,’ answers Phil, but he doesn’t roll his eyes. ‘But everyone’s different. Some kids want more attention; some kids mature faster than others. Maybe some parents aren’t as good at reading their kids as they think. But I think growing up is when you can forgive your parents for all their mistakes.’

‘You don’t think that I’m mature enough?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Dan sighs. ‘But it’s my own bloody fault, and I don't know how to stop the cycle. I wanted them to be more involved, but I also pretended to be really independent so they wouldn’t hover. My problem is that I never know what I want.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Phil reiterates, but all Dan can hear is _you’re an ungrateful arse who’s too immature to just talk to his own parents without holding a petty grudge._

It’s easy to wallow in self-pity, but that doesn't make it right.

* * *

_the past_

Dan knew that he didn’t strictly need to tell his parents where he was going. He turned eighteen in June; he’d legally been an adult for several months now. But his parents had always impressed upon him the fact that while he was under their roof, they deserved to at least know his whereabouts, even if it didn’t involve a formal request for permission.

So he told them one night after dinner, when his mother knocked on his bedroom door and asked him what he was up to. She tried to peer at his laptop screen, as usual, and he jerked it out of sight, as usual. Then his dad appeared as well, and it seemed that it would be one of those _family bonding_ talks that his parents had always tried to make a habit of, but never quite succeeded. In Dan’s opinion, these times usually ended up horrifically awkward, as he never had anything acceptable to say.

‘Something on your mind, Daniel?’ asked his mother, sitting down on the edge of his bed. For once, Dan was grateful for the question.

‘Yes,’ he began, steeling himself. ‘I have a friend. Called Phil. He’s a bit older than me and he lives in Manchester and I’ve known him for like half a year and I know he’s not a creepy old man because we’ve talked face to face and he makes YouTube videos –’

‘Daniel,’ said his father, in a wearying tone. ‘Please get to the point.’

‘I’m going to stay with him for few days,’ said Dan, the words coming out in a rush. ‘And I’ve already booked the tickets, so …’

‘You’ve booked the tickets.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve spent money on tickets to go stay with somebody in Manchester whom you’ve never met in real life.’

‘Dad, I’m an adult now.’ Dan could feel his face getting warm, and he struggled to remain calm. His father’s ears were turning red – never a good sign.

‘Just because you turned eighteen a few months ago, doesn’t mean that you’re automatically qualified to make sensible decisions.’

‘Then you’re going to make my decisions for me? You never gave a fuck about how I spent my time before!’

‘Daniel!’ His mother’s face was stern and set. ‘Don’t swear at your father. Calm down.’

‘Okay. Fine.’ Dan took a deep breath, avoiding the emotions that were bubbling to the surface. ‘I’ve literally known Phil for _months_. We talk a lot on Skype. He makes videos for the Internet. I’ve seen his face. He’s not a – a creepy old man, I promise.’

‘Dear, let me handle this,’ said Dan’s mother to his father. She turned to Dan. ‘Tell me again how you two met.’

‘I told you, he makes videos for YouTube –’

‘What kind of videos?’

‘Good ones,’ said Dan immediately. ‘Really good ones.’

‘How old is he?’

Inwardly, Dan winced. ‘Twenty-two.’

‘It’s all your own money that you’re spending?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you believe this is money well-spent?’

_‘Yes.’_

Dan’s mother heaved a long sigh, the kind that Dan hated. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘If these are the antics you’re going to fill your gap year with –’

‘Mum, it’s just a few _days_ –’

‘– then I can’t stop you. Go. But I want you to get a job when you come back. Don’t waste this time, because it’ll be gone sooner than you think and you won’t be able to get it back.’

‘On the train, you should think about your internship and university options as well,’ said Dan’s father.

Dan nodded, too elated to revive the same old argument about his future. He was going to stay with Phil for a few days and meet his Internet idol in real life. Everything else, like his career and his family, seemed less important just then.

He told them that Phil lived with his parents, but forgot to tell them that Phil’s parents would be away for that very same week. He figured they didn’t need to know.

* * *

_the present_

It happens in the middle of filming a gaming video. While they play, they’re sitting closely together, intent on the screen, when Phil’s elbow knocks Dan’s. Without thinking, Dan elbows him back, and there is a brief, silent battle between them, until Dan’s elbow hits a particularly ticklish spot in Phil’s ribs and Phil yelps.

‘I’ll edit that bit out,’ says Phil absently, still focused on the game.

‘Do you have to?’ The words come out of Dan’s mouth before he can stop himself.

Phil looks so confused at this answer to a usually rhetorical comment that he loses concentration for a second, and Dan wins that round of the game. Phil doesn’t even complain, just turns to Dan and said, ‘What’re you on about?’

‘It was just a bit of fun,’ says Dan. ‘You don’t have to edit it out. People will like it.’

‘That’s not why, Dan, and you know it.’

The unspoken words hang in the air, but neither will reach out and snatch them.

‘I thought you’d left all that behind with the tour,’ says Dan. Tension has fast risen up like a wall between them. ‘I thought –’

‘Let’s not do this on camera,’ says Phil, his voice tight. He stands, pauses the recording and glances back at Dan. ‘Ribena?’

Dan passes his cup in silence, still thinking.

The subsequent discussion is long and without a real conclusion. Later, they are asked on Twitter by an eagle-eyed viewer – at least twenty eagle-eyed viewers, actually – about the impossible-to-hide break in the middle of filming, as evidenced by the time on the computer and their slightly altered hair and clothes.

Dan replies:

> _an extended and much needed ribena break_

It may not be a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.

* * *

_the past_

The law exam was the next morning, and Dan had done fuck all towards studying. His emotions were highly strung and his nerves were strained and he couldn’t concentrate, and Phil was just sitting there playing Spyro or something equally annoying, and this law jargon was impossible and impenetrable, and he’d had all summer to study and yet hadn’t touched his coursework in months and was just going to be a failure, like always –

‘I’m not doing it!’ he burst out, almost stumbling over the words and feeling immediately ashamed of himself. Another thing he was a failure at, then. Still, it felt good to say the words.

Phil looked startled. ‘Not doing what?’

‘No one can _make_ me do it.’

‘What are you on about?’ asked Phil, putting down the game controller and staring.

Shaking with stress, Dan didn’t hear him. ‘That’s it! I’m not going to go!’

‘Not going to go to what?’

‘My resit.’

‘Dan, you have to go to your resit,’ said Phil matter-of-factly, but he didn’t return to his game.

‘Not if I don’t give a fucking fuck anymore, I don’t!’ Dan’s voice was so loud that Phil jumped. All the pent-up emotion inside him burst, and to his horror, he felt his throat constrict. It was fucking _impossible_ , he couldn’t make head or tail of it, and it was all his fault, because he was a fucking idiot who didn’t know how to study and couldn’t keep a job and was going nowhere in life –

‘Dan,’ Phil was saying, over and over; at least, his lips were moving, but there was a pounding in Dan’s ears. He could feel his back being rubbed, could sense Phil’s comforting arms around him; tears blurred his vision and he buried his face in his arms as if waiting for a sentence to fall.

Afterwards, he couldn’t remember how he got there, only that he was sitting on the floor against the kitchen cabinets, his knees drawn up to his chest.

‘... Dan. Dan. Come on. Breathe.’ The gentle voice sounded distant, but gradually became louder and clearer, as if Dan were coming to the surface after swimming underwater for a long time. He blinked, and Phil’s blue eyes came into view. He took a slow, shuddering breath; the thud of his heartbeat in his ears evened and faded.

‘I’ll get you some chocolate,’ Phil said softly. ‘And then you can tell me. Don’t say anything just yet, okay?’

Dan gave a tiny nod, throat too choked up for words anyway. He heard Phil bustling around above him, then felt a packet of chocolate being pressed into his hands. Tentatively, he wiped his face on his sleeve and waited for Phil to say something, but Phil only settled down beside him, and it was his presence that fortified Dan. He nibbled at the chocolate and willed himself to speak.

‘I was going to be an actor,’ he mumbled, cradling the packet of chocolate in two hands as if it would imbue him with the strength he needed. ‘And then I hit seventeen and it kinda fell apart or people told me there wasn’t any point being an actor and that I should focus on getting a real job. Maybe I stopped caring. So I went and got a couple of shitty jobs and a law internship, procrastinating again, because that’s all I’ll ever be good at.’

Phil’s hand made its way into Dan’s, just holding it. The simple act made the tears come harder than ever, now, and he was Dan Howell and he was twenty years old and six feet tall and sitting on the kitchen floor, bawling his eyes out. Somehow there was a box of tissues in his lap and he nearly choked on air again, the breath catching in his throat and making him lightheaded. But Phil’s embrace was tight and reassuring, and his slow, steady breathing gradually turned Dan’s gasps into hiccups and dizziness into clarity.

‘I guess,’ he continued, after some more chocolate, ‘I thought I was putting it off until later, I don’t know. But it just hit me that this _is_ my life, that this is all there is, that there isn’t any fucking later. I made the most stupid choice of my life, just because I thought there was no career in doing what I wanted to do, but now there’s nothing that I _do_ want to do, and I’m failing law and failing life and failing everything and it’s so fucking fucked up, Phil –’

‘It’s not,’ said Phil. Dan looked up at him.

‘It’s all right for _you_ ; you've got a bloody Master’s degree, for God’s sake –’

‘And the other one, I’ll probably never use. So what? Failing one thing doesn't make you a failure, Dan. It makes you human.’

‘But I’m pretty shit at being a human. Can’t even define my own sexuality.’

‘You’re not shit at being a human.’

‘I’d be a pretty shit lawyer, though.’ Dan sniffed. ‘If I ever get there. I’m going to fail tomorrow’s exam. If I do it.’

‘Don’t, then.’

‘But I have to.’

‘You don’t, actually,’ said Phil, and it was like a gap in the grey clouds surrounding Dan had appeared at last, creating a slim sunbeam of hope. ‘You can put it off to next year, or you can switch course, or you can drop out. It’s okay.’

A strange sense of calmness stole over Dan, and he swallowed hard. ‘I need to ring my mum.’

* * *

_the present_

Their growing tension and dissonance reaches a peak with the help of Twitter. Someone’s snapped a candid photo of them.

Too candid.

It’s slightly blurry and they’re only in the background, sitting in a corner booth of a café on a day that has since blended into others, but their clasped hands are plain to be seen, and Phil’s body is leaning into Dan’s.

And it’s not a coming out, because it would take at least three leaked sex tapes and another Valentine’s Day video to make the most sceptical of their audience believe in Phan, but it’s enough to cause a stir. He has a liveshow that evening, and though he’s mastered the art of ignoring topics he isn’t comfortable addressing, the incriminating picture has infiltrated every corner of their online fan base.

‘What do you want to do?’ Dan asks Phil in a hushed voice.

‘I’ll ask her to take it down,’ says Phil resolutely, clicking on the profile of the girl who first uploaded the picture.

Dan blinks. For the first time in longer than he can remember, he and Phil aren’t on the same wavelength, and this frightens him. ‘I thought …’

Phil gives him a quick, searching look. ‘What did you think?’

‘I thought … well, maybe we don’t _have_ to do anything. After all, once something’s on the Internet, it’s out there forever.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ Without meaning to, Dan has scratched an old wound.

‘Sorry,’ he backtracks. ‘It’s just that you always say not to make a big deal about things –’

‘One message isn’t a “big deal”, Dan.’

‘But will it even make a difference? They’ll just share it privately instead.’

Phil doesn’t answer, but the way he types loudly as he composes a DM tells Dan that his silence is far from assent. All in all, it isn’t a good start to the day for either of them.

That evening, before his liveshow, Dan doesn’t mention the prying tweets to Phil; instead, he tries to approach the subject in a roundabout way.

‘So,’ he says casually. ‘Did you send out those angry DMs, then? Asked people not to spread it around?’

Phil just gives him a look.

‘Or maybe you just filed hundreds of takedown notices, right?’

‘Dan, what’s the matter?’ Phil’s tone is neither sharp nor defensive, but Dan takes it as such, and lets out a frustrated exhalation through his nose.

‘What about my liveshow tonight? They won’t want to talk about anything else.’

‘Cancel it, then,’ says Phil.

‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’

‘Just ignore it. It’ll blow over.’

Dan wishes he could believe that. He recalls part of their mid-gaming video conversation:

_‘I thought you’d left all that behind with the tour.’_

_‘And I thought you had. Weren’t you saying this is a slow rebranding? Why all the worrying lately about the future and acting as if it doesn’t matter that we released two books and went on tour? You’re taking two steps backwards, Dan. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me. Is there?’_

_‘Of course not. I just … never mind.’_

* * *

During his liveshow, in addition to the usual ‘say hi to me’ and general name spamming, both the chat and the premium messages are flooded with messages about the photo. Half of them are brazen enquiries; the other half are policing the first.

> _COME TO BRAZIL_
> 
> _yesterday was a phandom holiday amirite_
> 
> _say hi to emma_
> 
> _so umm i feel kinda bad for asking but can you explain the cafe photo please_
> 
> _get phil_
> 
> _GUYS STOP WE DON’T WANT THIS TO BE LIKE 2012 ALL OVER AGAIN_

Like 2012 all over again?

Dan’s not in the habit himself, but he’s aware of their audience’s tendency to use shorthand terms to define each stage of their lives together. 2009 is flirting on Skype and ‘i want to be there so you don’t have to be brave’. 2010 is the honeymoon period of irrepressible fondness and the filming of that one video that no one will let them forget. And if 2011 is Delia Smith pancakes and that first awful leak, then 2012 is supposed to be the year when everything was going wrong behind the scenes.

Memories of the multiple leaks and his old ‘customerservicedepartment’ blog flood his mind; with an enormous effort, he tries his hardest to stop his face from betraying his emotions, even as he mentally winces with regret and embarrassment in equal measure.

And then he cracks. Before he knows it, he’s off on a spiel, his emotions bleeding into his words even as he stays deliberately vague.

‘Consent. That’s important. So is – you know how paparazzi try to take pictures of celebrities doing everyday things? Or, you know, the culture of counting down the days until the legal age of consent, like they did to Emma Watson? It’s like saying, “I can’t wait to fuck you, even though it’s barely legal”, and I have a problem with that, because it’s not a two-way street – it’s being deliberately creepy and rude. But I also – I also feel (and this is kind of related) like taking pictures of unsuspecting adults isn’t much better. It’s actually quite a violating experience, and I _know_ people will say, “they’re celebrities, so it’s what they signed up for”. But hey, celebrities deserve privacy, regular people deserve privacy, and mildly famous people deserve privacy as well. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is just … don’t take pictures of other people without their consent. It’s not a cool thing; it’s just invasive.’

He takes a breath and scans the chat, heart pulsing uncomfortably. In an instant, he realises he’s been far too readable.

> _YOU FUCKING ADDRESSED IT THANK YOU_
> 
> _wow dan, subtle_
> 
> _omg guys he’s roasting us help_
> 
> _This is really telling_

Doth protest too much, indeed.

He’s never been as good at controlling his audience as he likes to think.

* * *

_the past_

Everyone thought Dan had been more upset about the video leak. In reality, it was Phil.

It was September 2011, a lazy side-by-side-on-the-couch Saturday, and Dan had lost track of time. Afterwards, he didn’t remember much of what had happened before Phil touched his arm urgently and said, tilting his laptop screen towards Dan, ‘Look at this.’

There was something in Phil’s tone that scared Dan. He leant over and looked at Phil’s screen. It took him a moment before he processed what he was seeing. His heart thudded horribly in his chest.

‘What the … Jesus ... fuck … how?’ His voice sounded distant to his own ears.

‘YouTube glitch.’

‘Did you –’

‘Of course I did,’ said Phil quietly. ‘It wasn’t public for long. Just … fuck.’

An even more horrifying thought struck Dan. He thought of the scores of videos that had been uploaded to LessAmazingPhil. ‘Were there any others?’

‘None of ours.’

‘What do we do?’

‘Tell them it was a prank,’ said Phil. He looked white and resolute.

Dan laughed harshly. ‘You can’t prank anyone to save your life.’

‘Do you have a better idea?’

‘I just … an April Fool’s Day video uploaded in February? They’ve got to be fucking _retarded_ if they fall for that one –’

‘We won’t mention it again,’ said Phil. ‘It doesn’t matter what they think.’

‘What do you mean, _we_? Wasn’t it you who had the _brilliant_ idea of uploading a video like – like that onto a website that glitches all the damn time? This isn’t _my_ mess, Phil.’

Phil didn’t say a word, but the look on his face only made Dan feel, if possible, more awful than before. It was such a _look_ , so upset and furious and sad all at the same time, that Dan just wanted to take Phil in his arms and do his best to make right what went wrong.

But he couldn’t.

So he left, went to his own room and shut the door, trying to drown out the pounding of his heart and the notifications on his phone with angsty music thrumming through his headphones.

Once upon a time, he’d have watched AmazingPhil videos whenever he felt down. Now, that just felt weird. It had never felt weird before. Something had changed, and Dan didn’t like it, whatever it was.

He forgot about dinner, stayed on the Internet until three in the morning and then crawled into his bed at last – cold, hungry, lonely and wanting nothing more to wake up with that day having never happened.

But that night, all he could think of was the way Phil had tasted when Dan kissed him on the Manchester Wheel, and how this really was equally _Dan’s_ mess, after all.

* * *

_the present_

If Dan could give his past self one piece of advice, it would be to wait.

Don’t feel you have to make all your decisions now; don’t worry so much about seizing the day before you run out of time and your days turn to dust. Hasty words scratch the skin and insults leave aches behind, but time heals and love prevails. Give it time. Wait for Phil, because heaven knows he’s always waited for you.

But Phil is patient and Dan is not.

If only he were capable of taking his own advice.

* * *

Phil confronts Dan about the liveshow rant during dinner. Well, maybe ‘confronts’ is too strong a word to describe someone who is too patient to ever be quick-tempered. But Phil makes his feelings clear with a stubborn tilt of his head and the cutting distance that laces his words.

‘What was that all about earlier, Dan?’

Dan heeds the warning signs and decides against making a joke. ‘I was just stating my opinions on the subject,’ he defends himself, stabbing his chicken so that his fork goes all the way through. ‘I _do_ think people shouldn't take photos of other people without their permission, regardless of whom the photos are of.’

‘But you should have discussed it with me, instead of addressing it in this underhand way.’ Both of them know they're no longer talking about random celebrities, but real people and a real relationship.

Dan takes his fork out of his mouth, holding it in midair and staring at Phil. ‘Oh, so now you're calling _me_ underhand, Mr I’ll-send-a-private-message-to-some-poor-girl-on-the-Internet-instead-of-behaving-like-an-adult?’

‘So you’re saying that ranting to the Internet on live camera is more mature than, I don't know, actually talking to the other person in your relationship?’

Shit. Phil is definitely upset.

‘I did talk to you,’ Dan mumbles, but the excuse sounds flimsy and hollow even to his own ears.

‘But you ignored me anyway.’

‘I’m _sorry_ ,’ says Dan, attempting to defuse the situation.

Phil sighs. ‘I just don't understand how you could have thought it would help matters at all.’

And there it is. Dan’s so desperate for Phil's respect and love that Phil's words cut him to the bone.

‘I couldn't outright address it,’ Dan retorts. ‘We wanted to keep this quiet. There are some things the Internet just doesn’t need to know. What happens behind closed doors stays in the closet. Or something.’

‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’

Dan doesn’t know how to answer.

Looking back, he realises that it’s always been like this. Phil is the silent one, the person who reminds Dan of his own father, oddly enough, because they both avoid conflict like they’re allergic and jerk away from public displays of affection like they’ve been burned. When Phil is angry, he goes quiet, and it infuriates Dan to no end. When Dan is angry, he gets loud, emotions taking hold of him and making him say things he’ll regret. This isn't familiar territory, this isn't ‘2012 all over again’; this is a development they haven't accounted for. But it will be all right in the end, he reassures himself. It has to be.

* * *

_the past_

As much as they tried to pretend that nothing had happened – Phil mentioned it a couple of times when responding to questions on Twitter, and that was all – it was difficult to ignore the elephant the room. Six days later, Phil uploaded a story game video, which was essentially outtakes from his previous Fantastic Foursome holiday vlog. In the description, he wrote:

> _Just thought I'd post this mini video as Youtube is a bit broken xD_

‘Understatement of the year,’ Dan muttered. Phil glanced at him tentatively, and Dan took a deep, silent breath.

‘D’you want a coffee? I was just about to make some.’ It was an unspoken apology; a peace offering at the end of almost a week of mumbling and avoiding each other.

Phil nodded, and Dan practically sprang from the couch. A few minutes later, he was pushing a hot mug of coffee into Phil’s hands.

‘Thanks,’ said Phil softly. Dan settled down next to him. A short time passed before either of them spoke.

‘I think,’ Dan began, and he hesitated, because this was an uncharted section of the map, ‘that because it’s your video, you should decide where we go from here, not me.’

‘But it’s  _our_ relationship,’ said Phil. ‘I made that video for you. You’re affected by this just as much as I am.’

Dan thought that wasn’t true, but decided not to dwell on it.

‘However,’ Phil added, ‘I think this sort of thing should be kept private. You know I do. It wasn’t up for very long. It can’t have been seen by many people.’

‘Maybe not, but …’

‘We should have planned a failsafe long ago, I know. I think … I think we should just be more careful about what we put online and how it can be interpreted. Because now people will be looking for evidence, even if we don’t intend them to.’

Dan agreed, but he knew he was agreeing to something more. It was a silent pact that, as long as they were in this relationship, they owed it to each other not to out the other. If they’d been close before, they were inseparable now, and Dan knew that there was no possibility of coming out, even if they wanted to.

Things would have been better, happier, if the video hadn’t been leaked again and again. Meanwhile, Dan passed Phil in subscribers, and their rapidly expanding corner of the Internet became filled with brash assumptions from people who hardly knew Dan and cared even less for Phil. Dan began answering the relentless questions in his liveshows, but maybe it was a mistake.

He felt comfortable saying ‘no’ when people asked if phan were real, because in his head, ‘phan’ and what he and Phil had were two very different things. Phan was the ship name he had created and which had been adopted by their audience as well. The shallow portmanteau did little to capture the depth of the relationship he and Phil possessed. So he rarely answered that question.

And, to answer the other most commonly asked question, he _wasn’t_ gay. It was the truth, but it was hard to act offhand about the subject when he had been constantly bullied in school for the very same thing. Eventually the question of phan migrated to passionate tumblr replies and an entire new ‘customerservicedepartment’ blog. But though the questions didn’t stop, they changed tack, this time questioning the sincerity of his friendship with Phil.

The hardest was the stab in the gut, the knowledge that Phil’s raw confessions were on the Internet for anybody who looked hard enough. The Boggart had escaped from the wardrobe, and although Dan and Phil had done their best to laugh it off, their fear shapeshifted into a new tension – not between the two of them, but between them and their audience. Dan and Phil versus the world, or something like that.

Acutely aware of the implications each word could hold, Phil didn’t use ‘we’ any more. He used ‘Dan and I’ or ‘Me and Dan’ – or, more often than not, just ‘I’ or ‘me’. But in the end, they both blacklisted ‘phan’ from their YouTube comments. Better just to avoid the issue, after all.

* * *

_the present_

That night, Dan has a strange dream. It’s one of those eerie ones that he described in a video several years ago – one where insomnia and worry blend reality and fantasy and a pinch of subconscious thought into an unsettling whirlpool. He doesn’t remember much of it, except Phil was angry or upset for some reason, and he, Dan, was being an idiot. As usual. It’s like he’s watching a sitcom. He’s always being an idiot, and he’s never been so frustrated with himself before.

When he comes to his senses, it is ten o’clock, and the bed’s made up on Phil’s side. Dan grabs his phone and slowly makes his way to the kitchen. The glass door is open, and what Dan sees makes him pause.

Phil is standing in the kitchen, one hand inside Dan’s cereal box, the other cupping his mouth. This time, Dan isn’t fast enough to to take pictures. Phil jumps with a yelp, scattering dry cereal all over the kitchen floor.

Dan doesn’t move. Phil’s eyes are suddenly very wide, almost glassy.

‘Oh my – you’re not _guilt_ -eating, are you?’ Dan bursts out.

‘No, I just …’

‘Yeah, you always eat my cereal. I know, I know.’ The tension from the previous night has returned. Dan feels its weight, and it makes him immensely tired.

Something must show in his face, for Phil says, ‘You look awful.’

‘Didn’t sleep well.’

‘Coffee?’ Phil gestures to the kettle.

‘Yeah, fine.’

Ten minutes later, they’re slumped on the sofa in the lounge, watching a television series with a name Dan doesn’t know, because he’s barely paying attention. Phil’s arm is pressed into Dan’s side; Phil’s hand is resting on Dan’s leg. Regardless of their argument the previous night, it’s a level of comfort that’s second nature to them, but only at home. In videos or when with others, the distance is tangible, and Dan aches for Phil’s touch. Part of him rejects the notion of labelling his sexuality; the other part yearns to show the world that _this is Phil Lester, he’s mine and he’s wonderful._

But he knows Phil will never want that. Because coming out is more complicated than simply confirming your sexuality. It’s opening yourself to ridicule, to speculation, to criticism, to hate. Not to mention that it is almost impossible for Dan to come out of the closet without dragging Phil with him as well. Their lives are intricately linked, and there’s no denying that. Coming out means giving yourself a label. It carries implications far beyond ‘Phil and I are fucking’. And it means admitting that both of them have lied, that maybe they haven’t been shipbaiting or queerbaiting or whatever you want to call it, because that implies deliberate manipulation from the start, but they’ve been deceitful and misleading. Will anyone still watch their videos without the eternal mystery tainting every perception?

The silence has settled between them, dividing them. When the episode ends, Dan tugs the remote from Phil’s lap and halts the autoplay. Then he presses his chapped lips to Phil’s neck in a gentle kiss, the kind that says, _pay attention to me or I might just go mad_.

‘C’mon, Phil. Talk to me.’

Phil sighs, but doesn’t otherwise respond.

‘Will you say something if I admit that you were right?’

Phil just looks at him.

‘I should have just talked to you. I was so stupid not to, because you always have the best advice, except if it’s to do with animals or shoes on the table or some shit –’

‘I don’t understand you, Dan.’

‘What d’you – what don’t you understand?’

Phil takes a long, forlorn breath, and Dan is instantly filled with a sadness that constricts his chest and makes his throat ache. More than anything else in the world, he can't stand seeing Phil genuinely upset.

‘I don't understand how you can mention that you have a crush on Evan Peters until you're blue in the face, but when it comes to filming, you’d rather people believe that you squashed yourself into a tiny bunk on the bus for two months instead of sharing the bedroom. I don't get why you want to keep silly moments in gaming videos, but can't even say the word “dating” out loud. I don't get why you'll talk about a slow rebranding and still manage to have an existential crisis about whether or not you should have been a lawyer after all. It feels like you’re regressing, Dan, and it's okay if you're not ready to take things a step further just yet, but if you’re going to act like the last few years were for nothing, then it seems like I don't know you anymore. And it scares me.’

‘Fuck, Phil,’ Dan croaks, once he’s got past the tightness in his chest. ‘It’s because _I’m_ scared that I'm going to turn into a robot and forget why I’m really here. I don't want this – Dan and Phil – to become an act. But we always agreed that some things are meant to be kept secret. If not _us_ , then what?’

‘We’re not going to be selling a relationship even if we do rebrand to get rid of llamas and lions,’ says Phil. ‘There has to be a divide.’

‘I know that.’ Dan rubs his temple. ‘But does it matter that much?’

‘Yes!’ says Phil. ‘Of course it matters! YouTube isn't what it was ten years ago. You can’t pretend there isn’t a gap between YouTubers and their audiences.’

‘But I’m sick of this,’ Dan shoots back. ‘Keeping you at a distance on camera … it feels like lying.’

‘It’s not lying. It’s telling the truth, but on our own terms.’

‘Telling the truth!’ Dan stared. ‘So you were telling the truth when you sent out a DM yesterday to a girl who posted a picture of the real us and asked her to take it down? It’s a fucking brand, Phil. We’re marketing a friendship and calling it the world of Dan and Phil. You’re the one who came up with all that “mutual friend in Manchester” crap. Phil the mastermind.’

‘Dan, you still don’t get it, do you? Isn’t it a big part of the reason why we created DanAndPhilGAMES and TABINOF and TATINOF and DAPGO? We didn’t want to have to explain every time why we did things together, so we did big professional projects as Dan and Phil. It’s a way to show that you belong in my life and I belong in yours. Dan and Phil isn’t just a brand name. It represents _us_. But if you’re going to sit there and tell me that it _is_ just a brand to you and you honestly can’t think of a reason why we spend time around each other any more, then …’

Dan’s vision tunnels. Phil’s eyes are the only thing he can focus on.

‘You’re saying that one of us should move out? That we should just forget about Dan and Phil, because it’s not working?’

Phil takes a deep breath. Dan steels himself, continuing to meet Phil’s eyes, which are glistening with unshed tears. _Fuck,_ Dan thinks. _Fuck, what have I done –_

‘“The happiest I’ve ever been”?’ whispers Phil. ‘Was that all a joke to you?’

‘You know I –’

‘Dan, you’re my best friend. I just want to be happy. I want us to be happy, and I want you to be happy … even if it isn’t with me.’

There is a silence. Then –

‘You absolute _spork_ ,’ says Dan. ‘You idiot. Oh, Phil, Phil, _Phil_ ,’ the name rolls off his tongue easily, and maybe it’s just a name he’s repeating, but it’s the most beautiful name in the world to him.

Phil says nothing, just waits, the way he always has. A smile crinkles the corners of Dan’s eyes and turns up the edges of his lips. It’s tentative, but it’s there.

‘You’re making no sense,’ says Dan. He reaches out and touches Phil’s cheek gently, reverently. ‘How could I be happy in a world without you? _You_ make me happy.’

Phil grins back – and suddenly, the mischief is there as if it never left.

‘I thought that was Kanye?’

‘Okay, I’ve changed my mind,’ says Dan. ‘I hate you. I love you, but I hate you. I only keep you around because you know how to cook and do taxes. I befriended my favourite Internet star for monetary gain. It’s all a conspiracy …’

They both laugh this time. Phil’s hands come up to cover his mouth and Dan draws him into a hug.

‘I don’t ever want to go back to the way we were,’ says Dan finally. ‘But I’m not entirely satisfied this way, either. The problem is that I don’t want us to be pigeonholed or typecast or known as that popular gay couple from YouTube –’

‘If it helps,’ says Phil, ‘I’ve never thought of us as a gay couple. We’re just us.’

‘But that’s not what – Phil, you _can’t_ just ignore what people say –’

‘Can’t I?’ says Phil quietly. ‘ _Does_ it matter what they think?’

‘I –’

_I want a definition,_ Dan is thinking. _I want a resolution to a topic we’ve been dancing around since 2012. I want … I want ..._

But though these are thoughts that have been festering ever since they returned home after Japan, he’s not so sure that they’re accurate anymore. As their audience has grown, so have they, and they are hyper-aware of every implication their actions may carry. But does keeping the separation between audience and creators matter so much?

Conspiracy theories will always remain, but there’s no world truer than the one they’ve created for themselves. Whether anyone else sees it or not never mattered as much as they thought it did.

‘No,’ says Dan, believing his own words at last. ‘It doesn’t matter at all.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, I just … um …’ says Phil, suddenly breathless. ‘Wait a sec.’ He jumps to his feet and dashes out of the lounge, towards his bedroom (judging from the sound), while Dan waits on the sofa, bewildered. A wild thought crosses his mind when Phil returns with something clutched in his hands, and maybe there’s merit in what people say about your body language imitating the person you’re closest to, because Dan stands up and his hands rise to cover his mouth.

‘We can call it nothing, or we can purposely avoid labelling it, or’ – and now Phil takes Dan’s hands and presses a small box into them – ‘we can call it engagement.’

The world seems to have slowed down, and Dan’s breath catches in his throat. He opens the tiny box, fumbling blindly. Something cold slips between his nerveless fingers and lands on the floor. Both of them duck to pick it up; their heads clash in a sharp shock of pain.

‘Fuck,’ says Dan, scrambling to his feet and rubbing his temple. ‘Two halves of a whole idiot, or something.’

And then he stops. Phil is kneeling, but he has retrieved the object and is holding it up to Dan.

It’s a ring, and it gleams silver and black in the light from the window.

‘It’s for you,’ says Phil, still kneeling, but his gangly limbs cause the typical romance of the situation to fall through. ‘You know. If you want it.’

Somehow, past the mist which has filled his eyes, Dan can see that Phil’s legs are shaking, and he grabs Phil without conscious thought. ‘Get up, oh my God, you look like you’re going to fall over.’ He’s half laughing, half crying, but it doesn’t matter, because now the ring is in his hand and he’s staring at it, marvelling, turning it over and over like the thoughts in his head, a million miles a minute – _oh my God Phil I love you so much why the hell am I crying –_

‘How long –?’ he manages at last, meeting Phil’s eyes.

‘Since our second Japan trip,’ says Phil softly. A pink tinge makes his cheeks glow, and Dan cannot tear his own gaze away. ‘I bought it that afternoon you stayed at the hotel while I went out, remember? I even asked Duncan and Mimei for some advice. But it’s been on my mind for months – years, really. It was never spontaneous, I swear –’

‘Until now,’ murmurs Dan. He runs his finger around the ring’s edge and slips it on, enjoying its presence on his finger and the meaning that it holds. He’s never been a fan of rings, but he likes the feel of this one.

‘It’s not something that we have to share,’ Phil tells him. After all, there are some things are meant to be private. ‘But we don’t have to be up in arms constantly. We could relax a bit. Be ourselves. Be happier.’

‘Be spontaneous?’ suggests Dan, raising an eyebrow. After all, he realises, all the spontaneous decisions he’s known Phil to make have been for his sake.

Phil nods. There is a question which hasn’t formally been asked or answered, but the ring on Dan’s finger, the shiny tear tracks on his cheeks and the pure and radiant happiness on Phil's face tell all the story that's left unsaid.

* * *

‘If you don’t stop fiddling with it, I’m actually going to slap you. Or take it away.’

Dan laughs, forcing himself to still the fingers that were absent-mindedly tracing his ring almost constantly. ‘Already rescinding the offer, are you?’

Phil rolls his eyes, smiling. ‘Only considering it.’ He takes Dan’s hand and ...

‘Now _you’re_ doing it,’ Dan points out.

‘That’s the reason I didn’t propose earlier. You’re impossible.’

‘You love me.’

Phil looks away, lips twitching. ‘Maybe …’

Dan bursts into laughter, then sobers. ‘Why not in Japan, though? Why now?’

‘Are you seriously asking me why I didn’t propose to you earlier? There’s no rule! There was nothing stopping _you_ from proposing!’

‘But …?’

‘You really want to know why I took so long?’

Dan nods.

‘I … well … I didn’t think you were ready.’

A protest springs to Dan’s tongue, but he bites it back just as quickly, because Phil is right. Dan wasn’t ready to be engaged until earlier, when he said, _‘It doesn’t matter at all.’_ But after twenty-five years, he’s finally comfortable enough in his own skin to take this next step. Maybe it’s never been Dan and Phil versus the world, or even Dan versus Phil. Maybe it’s been Dan and Phil™ versus the two very real people who are Dan and Phil. Storytelling has a way of seeping into real life, but it only confounds things when you start to believe it.

‘I think,’ he says, ‘it’s time to film that danisnotonfire video.’

* * *

Sometimes, apologies don’t take words, but actions. Sometimes a mug of hot chocolate and a cuddle while watching _Buffy_ makes all the difference in the world. And healing is a slow process, but a worthwhile one.

The first half of the video is the alternate fanfiction scene from TATINOF – the pirates/space/cake path instead of the commonly chosen cowboys/camping/drawing path. They film the second half in Phil’s room – the land of PINOFs and roughly half of their main channel joint videos. But the fact that this is a danisnotonfire video in that location says a lot.

Dan adjusts the camera and presses record. ‘You ready?’ Resting on the bed between them, Phil’s fingers are clumsily intertwined with Dan’s, out of frame.

Phil nods jerkily, smiles and waves at the camera.

‘Hey, guys!’

‘Hello, Internet!’ Dan does an automatic salute. ‘I hope you liked that alternate fanfiction IRL scene from TATINOF.’

‘You kept asking us on Twitter for it …’

‘Literally would not stop asking,’ Dan mumbles.

‘As some of you might know,’ Phil continues, ‘we filmed that in the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood, so thanks very much to the people who helped us and cheered at all the right times.’ He pauses and glances at Dan. ‘And now for some sad news.’

‘Is it sad? It’s not really sad.’

‘Okay, maybe it’s not. But endings always make me sad.’

‘Don’t keep them in suspense!’

‘Here we go. This is the absolute last TATINOF-related thing you’ll see for a long time.’

‘You say that, Phil, but we still haven't ruled out a reunion tour,’ interjects Dan, winking at the camera.

‘Dan! Don't give them any ideas!’

‘Okay, sorry. No reunion tour until we're old and grey and have to sit in terrible folding chairs to do Phil is not on fire.’

‘But you might be wondering what this little bit is all about.’

‘OH MY GOD, ARE YOU GUYS QUITTING YOUTUBE?’ Dan shrieks, his voice absurdly high enough to make Phil giggle.

‘We’re not going anywhere.’

‘We’re really not.’ Dan grips Phil’s hand.

‘So don’t worry.’

‘And there’s no point wasting time being sad. I know this seems like the end of an era, but honestly, the best part of the tour, better than all the breakfast food and being a pair of British tourists trying to kidnap the wildlife –’

‘Even better than sniffing a koala?’ Phil elbows Dan.

‘Even better than sniffing a koala. The best part was getting to see all of you, and even if you didn't get a chance to meet us face to face or go to a show or buy any merch or read TABINOF or DAPGO, what matters is that you watch our videos and support us in whatever way you want to, in whichever way you can. We literally couldn't have done this without you.’

‘Seriously!’ says Phil. ‘Imagine a show with no audience. Or YouTube without any viewers.’

‘That’s … that’s exactly what it would be like, Phil. So, if one day a meteor strikes the earth and destroys the Internet, just remember that good things might disappear, but memories of good times will always be there for you to look back on and think, “They were Dan and Phil and they made me happy.” Because really, that’s what matters.’

‘This video is basically a big THANK YOU.’

‘Literally. We’re going to keep making videos on YouTube until it stops being fun, but really,’ Dan can’t help looking at Phil when he says this part, ‘you make it the most fun I’ve ever had.’

‘So I hope you guys can be as happy as you’ve made us.’

‘And if this gets any more unapologetically cheesy, I might throw up,’ Dan concludes wryly. ‘But thank you so much for your support, and we’ll see you in the next video.’

‘A spon-free video.’

‘That’s right. Goodbye!’

‘Bye, guys!’

Dan catches Phil’s eye, reaches out and ends the recording. Then he leans back on his hands, breathing deeply.

Phil sits bolt upright. ‘Dammit!’

Dan’s wrists collapse in surprise, and he falls back on the bed. ‘What?’

‘You’ve got your ring on!’

‘But … they didn’t see anything, did they? I mean, it’s not like I was waving my hands around.’

‘You saluted at the beginning.’

Dan deflates. ‘Oh.’ Technically, he also showed his left hand when he started and stopped the recording, but those parts are easy enough to edit out. ‘D’you want to refilm the intro?’

Phil hesitates. ‘Let’s have a look first.’

They’ve been squinting at the tiny camera screen for a few minutes, hunched and aching, when Dan lets out a laugh.

‘This is ridiculous. _We’re_ ridiculous. I don’t even think it’s possible to see anything. It’s just a blur.’

‘Don’t worry about it, then.’

Dan does a double take. ‘You’re sure?’

Phil straightens and stands, turning off the studio lights while Dan extracts the camera card. ‘Let’s go edit this baby.’

_‘Phil!’_

* * *

There’s nothing like a threat to your lifestyle to give you a new perspective. Dan remembers his stiff conversation with his mum, and is finally able to view his own history without self-pity and resentment clouding his judgement. Life is a work in progress, and he’s willing to give his parents another chance to dispel his slivers of doubt and insecurity. The past will only stay with you if you let it. Phil, who is right about so many things, is right about that too.

Things change, and they learn. There are small things that mean a great deal to them, but very little to most other couples. People will probably glimpse a flash of silver and slow down the thoughtless salute for further analysis, and there will always be invasive questions, but Dan’s learnt to ignore them like they don't matter, because they really don't.

‘You should call it “thank you”,’ Phil suggests, when they’re editing together, Dan in control of the Mac and Phil leaning over his shoulder.

Dan grimaces. ‘That's so cheesy.’

‘It’s supposed to be cheesy.’

‘Oh my God, shut up.’

They eventually decide on, ‘ALTERNATE TATINOF SCENE (+thank you!)’. Dan presses ‘publish’, then leans back and closes his eyes. There is a ring on his finger, a promise in his heart and the man he loves by his side, and he’s never felt more content.

Maybe one day, there will be a low-key wedding, followed by a honeymoon in a place they haven’t been to yet. Maybe one day, there will be a house and a dog and a koi pond and a garden. Maybe there will be small handprints on the doors and walls full of windows to let the light in, and maybe the world is too full of maybes, but he’s glad that he can explore them all with Phil.

Phil grabs Dan's hand and squeezes it. They don't exchange words. They don't need to.

And Dan can’t help thinking, ‘2012 me would be so happy to see me right now.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please consider leaving kudos and/or a comment (remember that this is my first phanfic, so ... please be nice?). You can also talk to me on Tumblr ([realismandromance](http://realismandromance.tumblr.com)).
> 
> [Read/like/reply/reblog on Tumblr here!](http://realismandromance.tumblr.com/post/153508131391/dan-and-phil-versus-the-world)
> 
> This fic was nominated for the Characterisation Award in the Phanfic Awards 2016.  
> 
> 
> **AUTHOR'S NOTE ALERT**
> 
> I signed up for the [Phandom Big Bang 4](http://phandombigbang.co.vu) on an impulse, having never before worked with either a beta or an artist. This was written over a span of six to seven months (May–November), so I had to keep changing and adding to it as new information was revealed, such as Dan's pneumonia, TATINOF Australia and DAPGO. The BONCAs are not mentioned, because I published this the day before they happened. The themes are friendship, understanding, growth and dreams, and there is a lot of introspection, analysis and flashbacks. Really, the whole story is one long existential crisis on Dan's part. And procrastination station.
> 
> **I've rated it G, because it's pretty mild, but there is some coarse/inappropriate language and one description of a panic attack.**
> 
> Yes, this is a reality fic. It can also be called an alternate universe fic. I think the best description is 'canon divergent'.
> 
> I was originally labouring under the assumption that Dan and Phil would upload the cake scene soon – perhaps within the next month. Turns out, that's the most unrealistic part of the story.
> 
> It was originally divided into 10 chapters, each titled with a line from a song called 'Cars and Telephones' by Arcade Fire.
> 
> Deleted/unfinished scenes include the Manchester Wheel and its later demolition, Dan in hospital in 2010 and Phil Skyping with Dan's parents.


End file.
